


Hold Me Down

by Exipotic (lucid_lies)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Black Romance, Blood and Gore, Dark Character, Dark Comedy, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Murder, Murderers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sexual Violence, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucid_lies/pseuds/Exipotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that dead men tell no tales but that's not quite true. Ghosts are real. You can find them if you just bother to look and listen – and that's exactly what I do, what I'm paid to do. I put the puzzle pieces together out of broken bones, bruises, lacerations and welts. Ghosts are real and I find mine in the bodies unlucky enough to grace my examination table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> First Gotham story, not sure if I'll continue it. This takes place after The Last Laugh, but is obviously a divergence from canon. If you spot any errors, feel free to bring them to my attention. I've only just finished season one so I'm definitely taking some liberties. I might make Jerome the Joker, I might not. I haven't decided on that either. I don't own anything expect my OC Lucille 'Luci' and the plot. I don't normally write in first person so I'm sorry if that's not your cuppa. Lastly, this is not a happy go lucky story. It's a dark romance for a dark character. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'd think it would be known by the tags and the rating, but just in case, this chapter contains some descriptive violence/murder scene/gore.
> 
> Also, I've got links at the bottom containing pictures of the medical supplies, in order of their appearance in the chapter, for those interested in seeing what they look like.

They say that dead men tell no tales but that's not quite true. Ghosts are real. You can find them if you just bother to look and listen – and that's exactly what I do, what I'm paid to do. I put the puzzle pieces together out of broken bones, bruises, lacerations and welts. Ghosts are real and I find mine in the bodies unlucky enough to grace my examination table. 

As you can imagine, working as one of the GCPD’s medical examiners is an exhausting, often times thankless job. There’s no rest for the wicked, and new bodies are always being rolled through the double doors, only to be stuffed into a human sized freezer until I can get around to opening them up, and taking a peek inside.

With the recent upsurge in gang activity, and the formation of the Maniax, more bodies are coming in rather than leaving. And it’s a sad thing to say, but the fact is some dead people are more important than others. The somebodies get taken care of first while the nobodies are kept on ice, until there's an open time slot. Sometimes it takes days, sometimes it takes weeks. I've had some bodies in here for a month, their pending autopsies not urgent enough to warrant the attention. No, that kind of special treatment is reserved for Gotham's elite. 

Like I said, it’s a thankless job. I could be doing so much more with my medical degree yet here I am, wasting away my days playing around in dead bodies. It’s not glamorous and it’s nothing to brag about but it pays well. As petty as it might sound, it’s one of the reasons I haven’t quit. Outside this room, its a dog eat dog world. You can't even trust your own family not to stab you in the back if it benefited them in any way. At least here, I’m tucked away hidden from prying eyes and jealous hearts. I don't have to experience first hand the crime running rampant through the streets. All I have to deal with is the bloody aftermath. If that’s the small price to pay for relative safety, then I’ll pay it a million times over.

Because of all the corpses waiting to be examined, I’ve barely had time to sleep in the last 48 hours, let alone sit. My partner, Jacob, and I have been switching on and off every few hours, giving each other a ten minute break to load up on shitty coffee and as many power bars we can cram into our mouths before it’s back to the grind. I’m due for another break soon, my last was a little over five hours ago. Jacob's going to be back from his coffee run soon, and then we'll swap spots.

I’m elbows deep in one of the GCDP officers when the wide double doors smack against the wall. I barely look up, blowing a strand of dark hair out of my face as I cradle the dead man’s heart, taking note of its oblong shape and testing its weight.

“You’ve still got two minutes, Jacob,” I say, distracted by a hard lump I find on the left ventricle. “Better make 'em worthwhile, who knows when you’ll be able to get another one.”

“Luci, we’ve got one coming in hot. You’re gonna have to put that one on ice.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s been here since Tuesday and I just opened him up.”

“GCPD called ahead, they want us on this as soon as the body’s delivered,” Jacob counters, moving around carts holding medical instruments , prepping the second examination table. While wiping down the metal with antiseptic, he says, “They got the leader of that one group that’s been going around killing people.”

I snort, rolling my eyes as I yank my hand out of the chest cavity with a squelch. I take off the latex glove, mindful to keep it turned inside out so I don’t get blood all over myself. Been there, done that, no thank you. After tossing it into a biohazard bin, I round on Jacob and fix him with a disgruntled stare. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific there, Jake. There’s a lot of groups in Gotham that kill people.”

“The one with that ginger freak, I think they threw people off of a roof a few weeks ago or something? ” He rolls his eyes, throwing away a paper towel. “And thanks for the sass, much appreciated.”

I raise an unamused brow, shooting him a wry smirk. “Are you talking about the Maniax?” I ask, “And you know you wouldn’t have me any other way. You’d be bored to tears without me.”

Jacob snorts and mutters something unkind under his breath before nodding to the officer I was working on before he came in. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I don’t care what they’re called. I just know they’re a bunch of fucked up psychos,” he says, ignoring the second half of what I said as he continues, “Anyway, are you going to put him back? You’re not going to have enough time to finish the exam, not right now. The higher ups said they wanted us both on it so it must be a pretty big deal.”

I turn and start putting the dirty utensils in a pile, frowning down at the opened body. I hate this. I hate how unfair this is to the dead. They’re people and it’s my job to figure out how they died. Their families deserve to let them rest in peace. They shouldn’t be forced to grieve while their loved one’s rot away in a morgue, poked and prodded at but there’s nothing I can do. I’ve got to do my job and that means I have to follow orders. If they say jump, I ask how high. Someone always has their boot in someone else’s face, and this city is just a big power play between the rich families. At least by working for the GCPD, I know which boot it is.

There’s no point in dwelling over the injustice, or stitching him back up when I’m just going to be poking around inside again in a few hours, so I draw the crisp white sheet over his head and wheel him over to one of the empty freezers. With a little bit of heavy lifting and some old fashioned elbow grease, I’ve got him inside and I’m closing the door right as a gurney is rolled into the morgue.

Jacob ushers the two officers over to the cleaned table, helping them lift the body. I make my way over, helping center the body as the officers’ step back, looking uncomfortable, which is no surprise. Every officer that visits the morgue has the same exact look. Being around the dead is normal for Jacob and I, but for everyone else it’s just a dark reminder of their mortality. That one day, they will be a stiff, unmoving corpse on a table.

“Right,” the taller officer said, nodding towards our newest addition. “Gordon said as soon as you’re done, he wants the report sent directly to him.”

“Will do,” Jacob says, already unlacing the man’s shoes.

“If that’s all, we’ll just be on our way.”

I don’t bother sparing them a goodbye as they hightail it out of the room, instead observing the young man on the table as Jacob tugs off his shoes and socks. He doesn’t look older than 18, 19 at most. His body is lean and pale. A shock of copper hair rests on his head, and the angular planes of his face are sharp. A shiver races down my spine at the unnerving smile stretching his mouth wide, teeth on display as smears of blood give the appearance of a Glasgow grin. Even in death, he looks downright deranged. It’s no wonder he was the leader of the Maniax. He certainly looks the part.

“Luci, are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me get him undressed?” Jacob questions, sounding frustrated.

Snapping out of whatever daze I drifted off into, I shoot Jake a sheepish smile and gesture towards the morgue doors. “Sorry, the lack of sleep is starting to get to me. Do you mind if I grab a quick cup of coffee?”

Frowning down at a zipper, Jacob gives a quick shake of his head before shooing me away, “Go, Luc. Pretty sure I can handle this bozo for ten minutes while you regenerate some brain cells.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. Not like it’s gonna kill me.”

“Thanks, Jake. You’re the best.”

“Hey!” he calls.

I stop, my hand on the door and glance at him from over my shoulder, asking, “Yeah?”

“Drink one for me too.”

I laugh, shaking my head fondly as I head into the hall, on my way to the vending machine.

“You got it, Jake.”

 

* * *

 

 

“God, I needed that,” I say, stretching my arms high above my head as I re-enter the morgue. “The wonders of what a ten-minute power nap and some shitty coffee will do, eh?”

Before I can step away from the entrance, I freeze and a feeling of unease trickles down my spine. I don’t know how to explain it but there’s just this…electric charge to the air, this oppressive heaviness that makes my stomach churn. Immediately, I know something is definitely wrong. Jacob doesn’t respond and I look around the seemingly empty morgue, cautiously taking a step forward. There’s not many places to go, it’s just a big empty room filled with a few gurneys and medical equipment. I don’t see Jacob anywhere, and come to think of it, the body isn’t on the table like it should be. There’s no way he finished the exam while I was gone.

“Jacob?” I call out, brows furrowed and lips tilted down in a frown. I try to keep my steps light, walking along the edge of the room. “You in here?”

I’m near the exam table when I see it. Oozing across the checkered tiles is a large puddle of blood, looking black under the dim overhead lights.  My breath catches in my throat and fear seizes my heart, slamming it against my ribs. My hands tremble as I shuffle forward, eyes wide and unblinking. Death? Sure. Cold corpses? Not a problem. Grisly wounds and mangled limbs? All in a days work. A possible murder scene, especially if it's someone I know? Not so much. 

“Please, don’t be Jake,” I mumble over and over like a mantra as I get closer and closer. “Please, don’t be Jake.”

Stopping right before the blood touches the soles of my crocs, I swallow past the lump in my throat that's choking me and gathering every bit of courage I have, I look over the edge of the table. I immediately stumble back, tripping over my own feet. My stomach roils and I lean to the side, vomiting up power bars and coffee. My esophagus burns, spittle dribbling down my chin as I try to fight the waves of nausea. My vision blurs with tears and no matter how much I want to look away, I can't. My horrified gaze is glued to mutilated body before me.  

Jacob is on the floor, limbs askew like he was trying to fight someone off. There's a jagged cut spanning across his throat, so deep and so violent I think I can see his spine. His mouth is open in a silent scream, the corners of his lips cracked and bleeding, his cheeks sliced in two like someone took the rib cutters and tried to cut up to his ears, only to give up half way through. His torso is a pincushion of medical equipment with the bone saw as the center piece. And his eyes, oh god, his eyes. I retch, stomach empty and body shaking from a tangled mixture of adrenaline and fear. His eyes have been gouged out, a bloody hammer with hook tossed carelessly next to his head.

The silence is deafening, my ragged pants the only sound for what feels like hours until the hush is broken suddenly. I'm knocked from my stupor, a strange, eerie scraping noise echoes back at me from near the storeroom. Dragging my gaze away from Jacob's body is hard, and more tears pour down my face. I whisper a shaky apology before stumbling to my feet. My knees feel weak and my legs feel like jelly, I can barely hold myself up but I've gotta try. I stagger towards the doors, knowing if I get to the main department, I'll be safe. 

I'm not even two steps away when the lights go out, casting the morgue into a deep darkness. A terrified whimper escapes my throat, hands groping blindly in front of me as I fumble my way towards the sliver of light shining from under the doors. 

Just as my fingertips graze the cool metal leading to my salvation, the air behind me shifts and a burning heat presses into my back. I tense, shaking apart as a dark, masculine voice croons in my ear.

“Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says, his tone playfully mocking. “Unless you wanna end up like that _bozo_ over there.”

Something sharp – a scalpel, my mind supplies – presses against my carotid, and I nearly bite through my lip to contain a sob. The cold steel slides up and down the delicate column of my throat, pressing down too hard one moment, then easing up before blood can be spilled the next. It is a tense waiting game and I can practically feel the sadistic glee rolling off of whoever is behind me in waves. The sick bastard is enjoying every second of this torture, basking in the power he holds over me. My life is literally in his hands and he knows it. A twitch of the hand, a jerk of the fingers, one nick and it could be game over for me.

Chapped lips brush against the shell of my ear as the man speaks, “Now, what are you gonna do so my hand doesn’t _accidentally_ slip and slice your pretty throat. Hm, what’s your life worth?”

“I – I…” I stutter, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. My heart is beating like a jack rabbit in my chest and I feel like I’m about to shatter to pieces, my shoulders trembling against the broad chest. “Anything – m-my life - it’s worth anything. Whatever you want. I – I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Doll Face,” he says, a high pitched chuckle sounding next to my head. “What do you say to blowing this popsicle stand, huh?”

I give a shaky nod, not trusting my voice, it feels like my vocal cords are cemented together with glue. All of my strength has been drained.

The scalpel taps out an off-rhythm beat against my skin, and I flinch with every hit.

“Well, lead the way then, Gorgeous,” he sing-songs, pressing against my back and marching me through the double doors. “We haven’t got all day. Places to be, people to kill. You know how it goes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rib Cutters](https://www.expresssurgical.com/Resources/Images/Products/Large/7187-002.jpg)   
>  [Bone Saw](http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0281/1302/products/satterlee_bone_saw.jpg?v=1385148603)   
>  [Hammer With Hook](http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0281/1302/products/postmortem_hammer.jpg?v=1418074673)


End file.
